


hotelier

by sgt_jerk



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dom/sub, Hotel Sex, Light Dom/sub, Lube, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-30 17:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgt_jerk/pseuds/sgt_jerk
Summary: Half of Eames' life is spent in and out of hotel rooms. The other half is spent being spent in hotel rooms.





	hotelier

Eames often wondered how he managed to get through most days without doing something embarrassing. With Arthur particularly, he always seemed to find himself doing the utmost to catch him out in any real, unmitigated reaction. It wasn’t as if Arthur asked anything of him in particular, or was a high-maintenance individual. He just couldn’t help wanting to put him off guard.

Which would have been alright normally, when he was more flush with cash. Random acts of generosity tended to get Arthur more than flustered. However, this recent company trip had put no small strain on his wallet, and business select class to Thailand was not cheap.

He could say now, in the wee hours of the evening, that his offer to buy the both of them one last round of drinks might have been ill-advised. Ariadne had clung to her bar stool for some time, bless her, and there was no doubt in his mind that Yusuf was long asleep in his hotel room, snoring over his laptop.

He hadn't strictly planned on finding himself alone with Arthur, and the jet lag had started to hit him at least two hours ago. It was Arthur who had said, in a manner that in anyone else might’ve seemed suggestive, that Eames should really be a gentleman and buy him one last drink. Just as a nightcap, of course. It was only civilized.

"Y'know, we all almost have fun when Cobb isn't involved." If he hadn’t known better, Eames would have thought that his tone was almost light. Laughing, even.

"Treasonous, that."

"Oh no, I'm aware." Arthur rolled his eyes deeply. "He's just...a little internally focused sometimes."

"Selfish, you mean."

"If you want to put that fine a point on it, then yes."

"You don't have any regrets, then? About spending so much time on his team, playing by his rules?"

"You just have to make him think you're playing by his rules." He sighed, stirred the little black cocktail straw in his cocktail pensively. "Besides, I very rarely regret decisions I've made."

"...Oh?"

"'Oh' what?"

"Now I'm curious." Eames could feel himself leaning in against his better judgement, the wavering space between them closing.

Arthur closed the gap only by a matter of inches, expression cool on a flushed face.

"Well. I regret not taking you up to my room before this dull line of conversation."

A swell of chills peaked over Eames’ shoulders, and the base of his whiskey glass hit the surface of the bar a little hard as he set it down. He could feel his voice come out raw.

"My apologies then," he said. "Let me try to clarify the situation." In one motion, he'd plucked the glass out of Arthur's hand, tossed a large bill on top of it, and pushed both back towards the bartender.

Placing a hand on the small of Arthur's back, he guided them to the wall of shining elevators, and up what felt like countless floors.

 

* * *

 

No sooner had the door of Arthur's hotel room clicked shut than nimble fingers began expertly plucking open the buttons of his shirt. Eames shrugged off his jacket, dropping his head to the surface of the door as the length of his neck was laid bare. He usually knew better than to interfere with Arthur once he was on a mission, but couldn't help but reach out to yank a finger inside the belt of his pants. He was promptly swatted away, and Arthur made what would normally be a very unattractive tsk-ing noise at him. The scolding was tempered by the fact that he was in the middle of unzipping Eames' slacks and dropping them to the floor.

Eames let a light gasp slip out as the fabric brushed past his crotch, beyond his thighs.

"You wanted to 'clarify the situation'?"

"...I suppose so."

He pushed Eames' wrist back to the wall, hard.

"You seemed eager enough downstairs."

"I-I would like to."

"I thought so." Eames shuddered to the base of his spine, holding his hips still so that they wouldn't buck into Arthur unduly.

"Are you going to let me make things exceptionally clear for you?"

"I should hope so."

"Good. Step out of those things and get on the bed." Eames slipped off his loafers, moving to shimmy out of his underwear, before Arthur's hand caught his.

"Did I say to take everything off?"

"Well-"

"I didn't." Arthur sighed disappointedly, finally moving to untie his own tie and roll his sleeves, unbuttoning his shirt only slightly. "I see that I’m going to have to tell you what to do."

Eames whined only slightly, settling onto the bed, legs kicked off to his side.

"On your knees, and no complaints, or you don't cum."

Ever willing, Eames sat knees forward, arching his back to lean back on his hands, the motion exposing the full curvature of his chest. He knew Arthur loved how his torso led down to the lines of his pelvis, and he didn't feel like playing fair tonight, especially if he was going to get so….unexpectedly dirty with him.

Sure enough, his slacks tented suspiciously.

"...Such a show-off," Arthur had climbed onto the mattress, and settled on removing his shirt. "Open your mouth."

Eames complied, and the other man inserted two fingers onto his tongue.

"Suck." He complied, letting saliva build on his tongue, coating Arthur's fingers, puckering his lips around his second knuckles. He let them press on his tongue a little, the calluses rougher than the rest. Pulling the damp fingers from his mouth, Arthur began to trace the line of a tendon down his neck, to his collarbone, to his nipple. Eames gasped at the arrival, his breath coming up short at the abrupt sensitivity.

At a glance, he could see Arthur's cock grow further defined against the fabric of his trousers and he could nearly feel his mouth begin to water. Before he could linger on the image, Arthur's mouth was on his neck, warm and insistent at his jugular, tongue sweeping across the tender skin.

"-ah, Christ almighty-" Suddenly, his neck was left cold, and Arthur's stare was boring into him.  

"Didn't I say no complaints?" Eames took the hint with only a slight pout. He’d forgotten how difficult Arthur was to deal with. "Good. Now keep your hands back there too."Eames didn’t attempt to hold back a pout.

"Fine."  

Arthur raised an eyebrow, unbuckling his belt. The tinkle of the metal buckle made Eames' hair stand on end.

"Are you comfortable like this?"

"Comfortable enough..."

"You'll be staying like this for some time. Understood?" Eames exhaled stiffly, heart racing, as Arthur moved to wrap the belt around his wrists, joining his hands behind his back. "Move your fingers. Feel them alright?"

"Yes." He tried not to seem as enthusiastic as he felt about the notion.

"You're going to tell me if you can't. Until then, I'm going to get your cock hard, but you're still not to cum until I say so."

"Y-Yes."

Arthur reached down underneath the bedside table, uncapping a bottle of lube. Eames tried to quiet his breathing, failing miserably.He poured a generous quantity onto Eames' stomach, letting it slide in a wet trail down to the waistband of his underwear, against which his own dick was barely contained. The liquid dripped straight through to his cock to the point of dampness, and settled down at the base of his thighs, dripping to the curve of his ass.

Arthur continued dispensing the lube, this time more directly atop the bulge where his cock pressed forward. His brows were half-knit in concentration, and delicately,ever so slowly, he placed the palm of his hand on the bulge, and began to rub. The thin cotton was soaked, and it took everything in Eames' power not to loose a moan, the sensation coursing through his pelvis at lightning speed.

Arthur’s every muscle tensed in focus, diligent.

"You're not to move unless I tell you to. You're not getting anything more unless I want to give it. Understood?"

"Ah-yes. Yes."

He looked far too satisfied for someone whose hand was dripping with lubricant.

"...Good."

Feeling Arthur’s weight settling over his thighs and into his lap, his cock traitorously dampening his pants with precum. Almost lazily, Arthur unzipped his fly and let his erection spring loose of his underwear, curving upwards towards his navel in a pale, delicate arc. Eames tried very, _very,_ hard not to lick his lips and Arthur was sliding up in his lap, cock in his hand, and stroking its length deliberately. Of course, he was making sure his knuckles brushed Eames with every stroke. Not enough to bring him any sort of relief, but just enough to force something deep inside him to simmer and curl up with delayed pleasure. Time stretched, elusive, as he watched Arthur jerk himself off. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from it, from this man so willing to show off for him.

After a long moment, Arthur let go of his own cock, letting it rest stiffly against his stomach. His hand trailed down between Eames’ splayed thighs, teasing at his ass with warm fingers. As Arthur pressed him open, Eames gasped, dropping his chin to his chest, unable to stop his hips from jerking up firmly.

Instantly, he knew the mistake he’d made. Arthur’s eyes flashed darkly, as he pressed his other hand flat against his abdomen.  

“You’re going to be good for me while I fuck you, correct?”

“Y-Yes.”

“And what did I tell you earlier?” Eames could only whimper in response, “...What did I tell you?”

He could hardly gather his faculties at this point. Unfair in the extreme.

“Not… to move.” He stated, through gritted teeth.

Arthur tilted his head slightly as his fingers caught the track of lube gathered at his ass. Beginning to rub it in, and Eames let out a low groan in response.

“That’s right.”

His fingers resumed their work, spreading the lubricant all over, massaging it all the way up to his balls, sending tendrils of excitement to the base of his cock. He was warming him from the bottom up, and he could feel his face flushing, his whole torso growing warm and taut with the restraint of Arthur’s rule over him.

“Darling-”

“I’m not letting you have it yet.”

It was incessant. Eames could feel the tension spooling up in between his hips like a slingshot, pulled to the breaking point. Arthur was intent on wrecking him, and his nimble fingers traced back around to his entrance in light, regular circles.   

He’d begun to feel trembly about the knees, all his energy diverted to holding in the urge to sink down on Arthur’s slick fingers, to let him stretch him wide, and Arthur’s lidded eyes were raking over him, hungry for something he didn’t have the brain cells to find a name for.

He leaned into it at first sign of fingers pressing deeper, any restraint he’d had abandoned. Arthur held two fingers inside him for a moment, exhaling a breath, evening his weight as he adjusted his position almost wholly atop his lap.

“That’s it. Good boy.” With that, a shudder rolled through him, solidly landing where Arthur’s fingers stuffed him full, Eames’ body bucking down hard onto his hand.

As if in response to the motion, Arthur began to work his lubed fingers in and out, at a confoundingly steady pace. He was clearly not escaping this without a prolonged period of suffering, and Arthur moaned out as he fucked into him, hard, solid, and slicked with lube. Before he could ruminate on his personal ruin further, Arthur extracted his fingers completely, leaning off his lap, cock still hard and leaking cum.

"Turn over for me, baby boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> somehow this wound up as a multi-chapter bullshit exercise. check back in like a week for more details.  
> full credit given to @parapraxisms, for bringing his expertise with smut adjective usage to the table for this tire fire of a fic


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